The Mental Diary of Pants
by civilized
Summary: And so that cow jumped over the moon.


**Hello!**

This is a companion to _To a Malfoy _(which can be found on my profile!). It's not strictly necessary to go back and read it, as I cover the general feel of it here as well, but it's a short, fun little read and I don't think that it would go unappreciated by you.

**A few notes before we begin:**

- this is just the tiniest bit crack!fic-y, and that's a warning as much as it is incentive to read further, I think.

- as such, you should know that this isn't a very serious story. it might get more serious as it goes on, but I'm not sure yet. this is all I've got (so far...)

- it's written from the perspective of Pansy, as if she were narrating a diary inside her mind. as such, the tense switches from past to present as she thinks and does things. this can be confusing (it certainly was while I was writing it), and if you notice any blatant errors, please let me know!

- finally, I should make a few things known: this is somewhat of a Dr/A fic, and I know that not many people write (or even like) them together. I tried to do it justice. don't hate me for it. or do, just leave me a review with your opinion as well... ;)

* * *

Can you believe it? That stupid bimbo is _still_ going to marry him. My boyfriend. Astoria I-Thought-Hippogriffs-Were-Fish Greengrass is about to become Mrs. Draco Malfoy.

And I'm pretty sure the only reason she's doing it just to torture my innocent, whole, beautiful soul, because honestly, what other motive might she have, right?

Because I _told_ her that Draco and I had dated and she didn't even ask permission or anything, she just told me that we were all grown-ups and that I should stop being a pansy about it. Do you even know how old that joke gets after a lifetime of hearing it?

It gets pretty damn old, not that _you'd_ likely know.

But she does; I've certainly told her enough times. 'She' being that stupid bottle-blonde whore named Astoria. Well you know what? I guess I'll just have to start calling her AstWHOREia.

Geddit? Heh. Because it's her _re-_marriage. To my boyfriend. _Draco Malfoy._

Yeah, I know, not only is it completely selfishly bitchy and stuff to be _re-marrying_ someone (because obviously if she thinks that she'll be able to hold together a marriage after she sunk the last one she's gone absolutely mental), it just so happens that she's getting married to my _boyfriend. _Can I emphasize that enough?

It's.

My.

Boyfriend.

Draco Malfoy.

I know, right? Astwhoreia is such a bitch.

Like, she even asked me to be Maid of Honor. And what was I going to do, say no?

_Yeah, right._

She was my best friend all throughout school and it would look really suspicious if I just denied her like that. Besides, I've got a plan.

You know that really nice gown shop at the corner of Hazel and Diagon? Yeah, well it just so happens that my cousin's wife's mother owns the place and I bet that if I pull a few strings, maybe bring my cousin along or something, I'll be able to get a really nice dress there. I'm thinking something along the lines of an off-white A-line gown with a plunging neckline... Draco always did say he had a thing for my tits.

And you know what I'm going to do after that? I'm going to show up at the wedding looking like the fucking picture of beauty, and then Draco will realize that the reason he broke up with me all those years ago was meaningless compared to the intense passion that burns between us.

Oh? I didn't mention we'd broken up? Well, it was nothing, really. I mean honestly, what's eight years, two months, twelve days, and thirteen hours (and twenty seven minutes) between two people who are destined to be together?

It's less than a second, pretty much.

Besides, I'm sure he still loves me; who wouldn't?

I mean, after you've loved a person as deeply as we loved each other, you never just _stop._ It's something that smolders on an everlasting fuel called passion and faith; something Astwhoreia has never and _will_ never experience, because she can't love.

And I'm not even joking about that, either.

I think when she was little she had some heart problem and they had to go muggle and cut something out of her heart. Or something. Which I can only conclude means that she can't love because she has no heart.

Not to mention she's a total bitch.

But can you believe it? She's asked me to be her _Maid of Honor,_ at her _wedding,_ to my _boyfriend._

And she's probably planned this all –

"Hey, Pans?"

Wow, speak of the boyfriend-stealing-slut-whore, and she will appear.

I glare at her.

"Don't call me that. It sounds like 'pants'."

"Fine," she says, placing one of her bony hands on her bony hip and looking down at me, opening her thin lips to say something I'm sure doesn't matter at all. "Pansy, I need your opinion," she bends down and grabs two pairs of shoes. "Should I wear the off-white flats, or the eggshell wedges?" Astwhoria then looks up at me, eyes pleading, and I can practically see the back of her skull, that's how empty it is. "To the wedding, I mean." As if I needed the clarification.

I let out an agonized sigh, picking myself up off the blue couch in our apartment before I gather the patience to walk over to her. It truly pains me when she asks things like this; I can't just ignore a question as vital as _shoe selection._

"Well, you know your dress is eggshell, not off-white, so go with the wedges," I mutter, glaring daggers at the shoes in question. "Obviously."

I roll my eyes at her. What a stupid question to ask! Why would you ever actually consider wearing off-white flats with an eggshell dress? It's insulting to all of fashion, honestly.

She looks at me gratefully, "Thanks, Pans! I don't know how I would be able to get through this wedding without you; you're an absolute doll."

I turn my back on her, mumbling coldly, "Yeah, whatever," before scuffing my socked foot against the carpet of our sitting room.

Can't she see that this is torturing me? Doesn't she know just how delicate my heart is at the moment? How dare she speak of the wedding in front of me, that dreaded day, can she not see that my heart is being wrenched straight out of my chest? Maybe I'll start referring to it as the Dredding; though, if the plan follows through, it won't matter anyways. The Dredding won't even have the chance to start, if everything goes as I wish it to...

I look over my shoulder at her, as subtly as I can, and notice that her gaze is on me, too. Well, that's how it bloody _should _be, am I right? Those unfortunate souls who get landed with faces like hers should take note of people with beautiful, perfect complexions like mine.

She always _did_ tell me I was prettier than her, although back when we were friends I used to deny it, telling her she was 'gorgeous' or 'stunning' or whatever. Totally not true, by the way, she's about as attractive as decaying sewer rat.

And they say you shouldn't lie to your friends…

I smirk and narrow my eyes at her, barely restraining the urge to hiss. That might be overkill.

But please, Merlin, enlighten me as to why she's looking at me like that. What – does she think I'm upset or something? Does she think that I _care_ about this minor infraction in our relationship, that something so insignificant as stealing my boyfriend right out from under my nose would matter in the slightest to me?

If something so complex as that were to run through her mind, I think I might laugh.

She'd finally have a clue, the stupid girl – she might _actually_ give a damn.

Astoria Bitchface Greengrass, who couldn't do the cheering charm till fifth year and who probably still thinks the stork brings babies, yes, _that_ Astoria Greengrass, she's finally figured it out. She finally understands that no, it's not just about her and her stupid _wedding._

It's about me and it's about Draco.

And it's about us, our relationship; about us being _together._

And I hate her.

D'you wanna know why?

No, it's not just because she's a home-wrecking whore slut who steals boyfriends and seduces them into marriage; no, it's not only that.

It's because she's still _looking_ at me.

I mean, ogle all you want, but _honestly__,_ try and be secretive about it, y'know?

Wait – is that – is that a _tear_?

Is she seriously crying right now?

I turn my body a little more to get a better look and freeze, muscles tensing at the disgusting sight before me.

She is. She's crying.

Wow. That boyfriend-seducing, attention-seeking, lying, conniving, _bitch,_ actually has the nerve to cry.

What the hell?

_I_ should be the one in tears! _I_ should be the one blubbering about myself!

Furthermore, _I_ should be the one sniffling and huffing and sighing like a freaking elephant in labor because of an idiotic, whore-slut of an ex best friend.

But _no._ Of course not.

She has to go and steal the freaking show just like every other moment of my life.

But –

_no!_

– you know what? Obviously I've got no spine and I've got no dignity, because for some reason my feet are moving towards her. And –

_no!_

– I'm _hugging_ her.

"Tori, what's wrong?" I coo, my features softening sickenly.

Did I just 'coo'?

_What. The. Bloody. Hell. Is. Going. On._

"Well – " she sobs, leaning into me, "Draco – and I – got – we got into a – a – a fight! It was last night, Pans!" Astoria pulls away and wipes at her (ugly) face, missing much of the mucus-y grossness that has accumulated there.

I reach up and –

_NO!_

– wipe it away for her, looking into her (ugly, murky, shit-brown) eyes.

Ew. Did I seriously just do that? That's her _snot._ And her _tears._

And now it's on my sleeve.

That's bloody disgusting.

"Darling, tell me what it was about," I coo to her again, trying to calm her down.

If there were to be some evil genius sitting behind my eyes, the same who is directing my grand scheme with the Dredding, he'd be rejoicing.

_Yes, perfect, tell Pansy what she wants to know – tell her what's going wrong in your relationship, yes! MWAHAHAHA!  
_

This is perfect.

"He – he said that the wedding is happening too fast. He said his mum doesn't like the fact that I've been married before" – I always knew I liked Narcissa – "and his dad doesn't like how small it's gonna be. Draco said that if we can't get at least two hundred more people then his dad will call it off – Pans, what if I can't do that? What if I don't know that many people?" she sniffs hard, snorking up bogeys and tears and Merlin-knows-what-else.

It's bloody disgusting, and I'm not even exaggerating just because I hate her.

Did I mention _that_'s on my _sleeve_? Ew.

"Sweetheart, it'll be fine,"

_YES! No Dredding!_

"I'm sure Draco knows more than enough people to make sure this Dredd – I mean _wedding_, goes off without a hitch." I look at her as warmly as I can, doing all of the stupid things that 'best friends' are supposed to do, like hug her again –

_no!_

– and rub her back soothingly.

You know, I do a bloody lot for this girl just to have to break my heart into a million pieces.

She's goddamn lucky to have me.

* * *

**Alright, I know it's a bit scatter-brained, and I know it's kind of silly, but hey - I warned you, didn't I?**

**I've got the second chapter already mostly written, and I'm only releasing this first chapter because it's nearly done. I'll only ever release chapters when I'm sure I've got the next either already complete or very nearly complete. **

**Anyways, whether it be praise or complaint, I'd love your thoughts! Just click that pretty little button just below and give me your worst.**

**(or best. or both. y'know, whichever suits your fancy.)**


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